


wherever i go, you bring me home

by obsessivelymoody



Series: tiit fics [4]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Descriptions of Anxiety, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivelymoody/pseuds/obsessivelymoody
Summary: Sometimes good days become bad, and pre-show jitters only make them worse.This was written for phandomficfests interactive introverts tour fest.





	wherever i go, you bring me home

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to [quercussp](https://quercussp.tumblr.com/) for being an absolutely wonderful beta reader!

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

It’s like being stabbed over and over with adrenaline. As if you’re terrified and in pain, but someone is telling you how much you like it and you’re agreeing with them. 

It’s a thrill like nothing else, but it’s absolutely petrifying. 

And it’s not like Dan hasn’t done this before. In fact, this should be just like riding a bike. But nothing beats pre-show nerves, no matter how many times you’ve performed.

He seems to be extra jittery and nervous today. Maybe he shouldn’t have had that coffee this morning. 

Phil’s sitting on the small sofa in the middle of their dressing room. He’s got his phone out, no doubt messing around with filters or playing whatever random app he decided to download this week.

Dan looks over at him and briefly envies the calm expression on his face before remembering that Phil is probably sharing similar emotions to his own. 

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

Dan takes a seat next to Phil. They have about half an hour before they actually need to be backstage, and while this time is usually filled with mindless phone games and chatter, today Dan feels like he swallowed a wad of cotton. 

He doesn’t sit for long. A few moments later, he’s on his feet, pacing around the dressing room. Dan chews on his lip and he makes a motion to crack his knuckles before deciding against it. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket instead, flipping it around in his fingers to give his hands something to do. 

Coherent thoughts are replaced by an anxious stream of consciousness and panic in his chest. He wonders if his body is trying to warn him that his brain won’t cooperate later. Dan taps his nails against his phone screen as he flips it over. 

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

He sits back down. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dan knows that he’s not simply feeling pre-show jitters. 

Dan taps his fingers against his knee, beating out a quick tempo. He’s about to stand up again to start pacing when Phil smooths his fingers over Dan’s restless hands. 

Dan looks over at Phil. He hadn’t seen Phil lock his phone and leave it in his lap, but it rests there, screen black and empty looking. 

“What’s up?” Phil asks softly. 

He almost wishes Phil didn’t know him so well so he could get up and pace until they get called to stage, but the feeling of Phil’s cool fingers on his own grounds him. 

“I’m—” Dan breath hitches. “I’m nervous?” 

His voice raises and catches at the back of his throat. Dan lets out an awkward laugh. 

“I think we’re always nervous before shows,” Phil says. “You seem—well, you seem like you’re on edge.” 

Phil’s not wrong. They _are_ always nervous, in some capacity. Neither of them can help it, no matter how many times they’ve performed the show. It’s an excited sort of nervous though, and the thrill of being on stage usually kicks in and everything turn out fine. 

Today is different, and Dan hates that. He hates not knowing if muscle memory will take over or if he’ll freeze up, and cock up the whole thing. 

“I am,” Dan says. “On edge, I mean.” 

“Did something happen? You seemed just fine earlier.” Phil lightly squeezes Dan’s hand. 

Dan was fine earlier. Better than fine, actually. He thinks back to the slow and comfortable sex they’d had this morning. They’d planned it too, after being far too exhausted to properly carry anything out the night before. 

He remembers the softness of Phil’s hips under his palms, and the silky skin on Phil’s inner thigh that Dan drunk in, wishing he could never stop touching. Dan has the sudden urge to go back to that moment, to try everything following it again, figure out what went wrong. Even if Dan knows that, realistically, nothing _had_ to happen for him to feel this way.

Their morning together had put him in a good mood. He arrived at today’s meet and greet feeling more energized to talk to people than he usually did. Some of the stories they’d listened to genuinely warmed his heart, made him feel like his job was a little more than just that, but somewhere along the line, he must have lost that good feeling. 

It happens sometimes, though. The loss of energy and confidence are just symptoms, and Dan can’t help but wish they came to him at a different time. 

Dan shakes his head at Phil. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” He sighs, catching Phil’s eye. “I think—I think I’m just a little tired.” 

It’s not entirely a lie, but Phil nods anyway. Dan’s sure that Phil sees through it as he takes Dan’s hands in between his own, rubbing circles into the back of Dan’s with his thumbs. 

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

“Did you want a shoulder rub?” Phil says after a moment. 

“Do I—what?” Dan asks, alarmed. 

“I’m sure there’s enough time for a quick shoulder rub before we get called backstage,” Phil says, removing his hands from Dan’s.

“Phil—”

“Shush.” Phil pockets his phone and gets up, moving around the back of the sofa to stand behind Dan. 

“Phil,” Dan starts. 

“No.” Phil’s tone is teasing, and it makes Dan roll his eyes. 

“Phil, please,” Dan says, twisting around to look up at him. “If you dislocate my shoulder or put a kink in my neck, I _actually_ won’t be able to go on stage tonight, and—”

“Hey,” Phil says calmly. He rests his hands on Dan’s shoulders. “Just relax.” 

Dan sighs. Phil runs his hands over Dan’s shoulders before stopping near the base of his neck. The motion is oddly soothing, and Dan finds himself shutting his eyes as Phil lightly massages Dan’s muscles. 

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

_Fuck._

It’s nice. It’s so fucking nice.

Dan lets out a quiet, breathy moan as Phil applies a little more pressure. 

The small circles Phil rubs are impossibly alleviating. They’re like kisses on his forehead from his grandma, or the inexplicable warm feeling he gets when he hugs his mum.

Dan feels the anxiety melt away from his throat and his stomach, like the stuffy cotton has shifted into candy floss. 

He wasn’t aware of how much he needed a shoulder rub until now. 

Dan’s not sure if it’s the nature of how their relationship started—heavily fueled on the need to _see_ each other in real life—or simply the level of comfort that they’ve built over the years, but being touched by Phil never emits the same feeling of immediate discomfort that being touched by anyone else does. 

There’s nothing inherently sexual about it, either. There’s just something about it that seems to bring Dan a feeling of safety, of being at home. 

Dan sighs contently. He’s grateful and so ridiculously lucky that Phil seems to know exactly what to do when Dan feels like this. 

Phil slowly stops rubbing and leans down, pressing a kiss to Dan’s temple almost as if he was telling Dan _you’re fine, you’re alright_. 

Dan breaths in the scent of Phil’s aftershave, and the sweet tones lingering underneath it from his shower gel. 

There’s a beat of silence before a knock sounds on their dressing room door. 

Dan opens his eyes and Phil straightens, telling the person at the door to come in. Dan stands up as the door opens, knowing that they’re just going to be called to stage. 

They smile at their stage director as he lets them know they have ten minutes, and should probably make their way backstage soon.

“Ready?” Phil asks quietly as the door shuts after their stage director. 

“As I’ll ever be.” Dan says. 

He’s telling the truth this time, too. He’s nervous, but the panic has mostly subsided, replaced by the urge to cling onto Phil. 

_Ridiculous_. Dan laughs quietly at himself, unfazed by the amused and quizzical look Phil gives him as they leave their dressing room. 

_Everything is going to be fine_ , Dan tells himself as they make their way through the corridor leading to the stage. _You’ve done this a million times over. You’re fine._

Someone opens the door to backstage for them as they approach, and they utter quiet thank you’s to them as they step into a dim red light to join their crew. 

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

The red light casts unusual dark shapes across their faces, and Dan feels panic bubbling in the pit of his stomach. 

The booming voice introducing them echoes across the theatre. 

Phil taps the back of Dan’s hand. He smiles at Dan, looking almost sinister in the red light save for the warmth in his eyes. 

Dan returns the smile weakly, nodding at Phil. 

As they make their way on stage, Dan feels the thrill of performing kick in. 

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

*

After the show, Dan feels numb. 

It’s a familiar sort of numbness, one that he supposes lots of rest will take away. He made it through the show though, and with almost the same level of energy he puts out every night. 

Phil places a light hand on his lower back as they make their way further backstage. 

It’s a comforting touch, one that Dan wants to lean into. The expanse from the bottom of Phil’s palm to the tips of his fingers emulate an electric feeling. It sends lighting-fast sparks across Dan’s body, cutting through the numbness. 

Relishing in the feeling, Dan registers the utter exhaustion he feels. His feet feel heavy in his shoes and his arms hang limply at his sides. 

He’s so drained, he barely takes notice of one of their crew members asking if they wanted to go out and get drinks with the rest of them. 

“It’s been a long day, so we’re going to turn in early,” Phil says politely. Dan puts on what he hopes to be an apologetic smile. “But thank you for the offer.” 

After a few moments of idle chatter, Phil leads Dan back to their dressing room to grab their things. 

Phil slips his hand off of Dan’s back to open the door to their dressing room, and Dan almost reaches out to grab Phil once the door shuts behind them. 

He resists, and sets out to clean up the stuff they’ve managed to litter across the dressing room over the last five hours. 

Movement is good. It makes the last little bit of energy Dan harbours course through his body alongside the exhaustion. 

God, he can’t wait to collapse in bed.

As Dan zips up his bag, Phil walks over, holding Dan’s water bottle out to him. 

“I think that went really well tonight,” Phil says softly. 

Dan smiles at him before taking a sip of water. The smile feels forced, but he can see in Phil’s eyes that the intent of it wasn’t lost. 

“Yeah, me too.” Dan says.

“Thank you,” He adds. It comes out quick, like a panicked afterthought. 

Phil rubs up and down Dan’s arm in return. He trails his fingers down Dan’s arm to meet the tips of Dan’s fingers. Phil brushes across Dan’s nails and along the sides of his joints, pushing forward until their fingers are intertwined. 

*

Later, Dan lays his head in Phil’s lap, fingers curled around Phil’s pyjama clad thigh. 

It’s quiet in their hotel room. Phil threads his fingers through Dan’s hair, softly scratching at his scalp while his other hand taps away at his phone. 

They stay like that for a few moments, motionless aside from Phil’s fingers. The dull rhythm they tap out across Phil’s touch screen and the pattern they thread through Dan’s hair makes his blood run warm and thick through his veins, and his eyelids droop from blissful fatigue. 

He feels Phil twist towards the bedside table and plug in his phone before shutting off the light. 

Dan peels himself off of Phil’s thigh and turns over, his back facing Phil. Phil slinks down under the sheets, loosely wrapping his arms around Dan’s waist. 

As Phil plants a soft kiss on the back of his neck, Dan smiles, reassured that if he wakes up tomorrow feeling worse than today, Phil will always be there to offer him a shoulder rub. Even if he doesn’t know that he needs one.

**Author's Note:**

> the title is taken from "sweet creature" by harry styles 
> 
> reblog/like on [tumblr](https://obsessivelymoody.tumblr.com/post/174691574357/wherever-i-go-you-bring-me-home-rating-t-word)


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